


down on my knees, you're how I pray

by Gondolin



Category: Saint Seiya, 聖闘士星矢・セインティア翔 | Saint Seiya: Saintia Shō
Genre: Aphrodite is a brat, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blanket Permission, Fucked Up Power Dynamics, M/M, Power Dynamics, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:34:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28242456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gondolin/pseuds/Gondolin
Summary: Aphrodite goes to leave, but Saga's voice stops him."You're not dismissed. I have use for you yet."A shiver runs through him and he turns around, walks out of the shadows.Blowjob in the Pope throne room from a twitter prompt.Set right after the scene in Saintia Sho when Pope Saga sends Katya, Georg and Juan to get Saori, and Aphrodite is there just lurking in the shadows and looking hot.
Relationships: Gemini Saga/Pisces Aphrodite, the barest hint of DM/Aphro bc i can't stop myself
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	down on my knees, you're how I pray

**Author's Note:**

  * For [muffinalien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/muffinalien/gifts).



> Set right after the scene in Saintia Sho when Pope Saga sends Katya, Georg and Juan to get Saori, and Aphrodite is there just lurking in the shadows and looking hot.

"I could do it," Aphrodite offers, even though he knows it's pointless. Once Saga has his mind set on a course of action, there's no changing it.  
Usually Aphrodite enjoys these little power games. But he thinks Saga might be taking too many risks with this. The girl, Saori, is gathering loyal Saints and Saintias. He could bring her to the Sanctuary now, even kill her if necessary, before she becomes a much bigger problem. Weeds need to be nipped in the bud before they spread. Of course, Saori is a pretty weed, and an interesting one. He could almost imagine himself liking her.  
The Pope shakes his head, slow and solemn. Too sure of himself. But the power is intoxicating, and so is the hand that wields it.  
Aphrodite goes to leave, but Saga's voice stops him.  
"You're not dismissed. I have use for you yet."  
A shiver runs through him and he turns around, walks out of the shadows resplendent in gold, just as Saga is crowned in darkness, the light almost disappearing into the folds of his robes, hiding away into the sharp lines of his helmet and mask.  
"What use do you have for me?" he asks, voice dripping with innuendo. It's not the first time they've played this game.  
Aphrodite's knee hits the carpet and he waits, head bowed, as he always does when receiving orders.  
"Come here," Saga orders.  
He obeys. He obeys because he wants to, and because Saga could make him, if he so wished, and the knowledge of that thrills him.  
His cape pools around him like a deflated sail as he kneels again, this time close enough to feel the warmth of Saga's skin through his robes.  
He places one gold-gloved hand on the Pope's knee, knowing full well that he's exceeding his orders already.  
Saga grabs him by the hair and pushes his head back, exposing his throat.  
The Pisces helmet falls to the floor, rolls down the stairs of the throne. One is not supposed to debase a Cloth like that. Then again, one is not supposed to do many of the things they do.  
It occurs to Aphrodite that he is not scared enough, even as the Cloth digs into the back of his neck, surely leaving marks on the pale skin.  
(He thinks about taking a detour to the Fourth Temple, after. To show off the bruises, maybe acquire some more.)  
"I didn't give you permission to lay your hands on my sacred person."  
That's really a bit much. Aphrodite can't help it, he snorts at that, and Saga backhands him across the face.  
Fine, he deserved that.  
"Let me make it up to you," he says through stinging lips.  
A pause. He tries again: "Let me earn your forgiveness."  
Saga is not unmoved. He shifts in his seat, his knees parting slightly.  
This time, Aphrodite keeps his head low. Saga's hand is back in his hair, this time dragging him closer.  
Saga's skin is perfumed and oiled with precious ointments. It feels like being invited to share a treasure, like riches and luxury are within reach.  
His cock is interested, but still mostly soft. Careful to keep his hands away this time, Aphrodite leans forward, takes the tip into his mouth. Then he slips back, gives a few kitten licks, teasing, tasting. Soft blue locks fall on his eyes, but he doesn't need to see for this.  
Saga's cock is a familiar weight on his tongue, the silky smooth skin sliding easily past his lips.  
He almost regrets not having any lipstick on, because he likes how it stains, how it marks his passage. He likes how it looks on him, too, after, all ruined. Makes him look truly wrecked.  
Saga is hardening in his mouth, and despite his stillness, there are tiny breaths escaping him, small moans echoing inside the Pope mask. That stays on. If someone were to walk in... well, there are risks not even Saga is willing to take. Aphrodite trusts no one is scheduled to come in, but one can never know. Emergencies happen.  
His hands are on the thighs of his armour, warming up the gold with his palms, sliding down without purchase on the smooth metal. Aphrodite rolls his shoulders, adjusts his position and bows his neck even further, making Saga's cock hit the back of his throat. There's spit dropping from the corners of his mouth and he can barely breathe. He feels so fucking powerful.  
And then, of course, Saga has to unsettle the balance, pushing him off just as Aphrodite was starting to taste salty percome.  
"Let me look at you," he orders, surprisingly fond in his own way.  
Before Aphrodite can resettle, push and pull the Pope into doing what he wants, Saga is jacking himself off. The mask's eyes are impassive, but Aphrodite can feel Saga's heavy gaze on him, the weight of his focus, his cosmo bearing down on him like increased gravity, like a magnetic pull. He is ensnared.  
Saga comes all over him, his face, his hair, his Cloth.  
There are many things one isn't supposed to do. And yet.  
It's clear Saga likes what he sees. He pushes a thumb into the bruise blossoming on Aphrodite's cheek, into a drop of come. Aphrodite can almost imagine his smirk.


End file.
